Incurable
by Tsuki-no-Kurokage
Summary: AU Hitsugaya Toushirou is a problematic child, unwilling to open his heart to anyone but the one who died for his sake. When he is entrusted to the town's best psychologist, will things be any different? ::IchiHitsu, KusaHitsu::
1. An Icy Welcome

**Incurable**

_Author's Note: This was one twisted idea. And it used to be even more twisted, but I toned it down to a threeshot so that the chapters in between are 'eliminated'. This is now meant for a 'filler' story; once this is complete, I'll have to start another one. Heck, I might even begin one of the major ideas and turn it into a shorter story just to buy myself more time... o O And on another note; ff was being bitchy. I tried saving document, but they signed me out (after the three days thing) and when I logged back in, the updated parts were gone, all the way from the fourth scene onwards; the part about Ichigo waking up early. And I worked on those parts for two hours straight too -is pissed-_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Bleach. On a side note, chapter titles are copyrighted by Atlus for their awesome game Trauma Center: New Blood. _

_Warning: Confirmed OOCness from Hitsu (well, he -is- mentally unstable...), character death_

* * *

_"...saka...Kusaka...Kusaka!!"_

_Tears of heaven poured down upon the pitiful child lying on the pavement, and soaked him to the skin and bones. Stretching out an arm and resting his elbow on the pebbles, he pulled himself closer to the road where the puddles of blood and rain mixed to form one pool altogether. A clenched fist smashed upon the pool, staining itself with the muddy, soiled blood before allowing its own skin to tear. The blood of his own dripped onto the puddle and swam about in the water before residing with the rest of the blood which had belonged to another injured party; the sight of blood had never fazed him this much before, and he blamed the damned ears he was so-called blessed with. Otherwise..._

_He shook the chain of thoughts out of his mind, reaching out and grabbing the other party's arm instead. Gasps of air ran in and out of his lips like a speed train, while he sucked on the icy rainwater trickling down his face. Fingers within his grasp twitched; his eyes widened, and his grip on the arm tightened. His teeth clenched together to prevent anymore gasps of air; instead, the bitter, painful suction of his nose taking in the rain spread throughout his mouth, filling his tongue with the blood-like taste._

_A hand came tapping his lips, stopping him from saying anything of the moment. The figure lying face-up on the road shook his head once, a weak smile dawning upon his features. He gazed at his partner tenderly, caressing his cheek as gently as he could. The child, who nearly escaped unscatched, frowned and bit his lip when he couldn't make out what the other was mouthing; but who was he to say that when he wasn't even sure whether Kusaka was speaking or mouthing? All he knew, and was 100 percent sure about, was that he saw the bloody lips moving without a sound being made, and yet Kusaka acted like nothing had happened when the worst of everything, to him, had happened._

_The rain continued to pour mercilessly._

_Kusaka's smile began to falter, ends of his lips twitching downwards slightly; emerald orbs narrowed at the sight, stopping the rain of his own storm from pouring. What came at his doorstep was not the smiling, purple-haired adolescent whom he adored and treasured, completely well and uninjured; but a light kiss from the said casualty that left a crimson lip mark on his hand._

_Eyes of the same redness rolled to the back of his head, showing only the whites before the heavy eyelids drooped over to cover the frightening sight. The white-haired child brought his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes shut, lowering his head as he allowed the rain to bathe him of the blood._

_By the time the ambulance had arrived, they could only save the young child whose tears were __mistaken for the water from heaven._

_"...saka...Kusaka...Kusaka!!"_

_But had he truly been saved?_

**"KUSAKA!!"**

* * *

**Incurable 01**

**An Icy Welcome**

* * *

"Well, we're done here for today. Go home safely, 'kay?"

"Ah, hai, arigatou gozaimasu!"

A click of the door handle, a soft thud of the closing door, and a distant footstep down the hallway.

The orange-haired adolescent in his white doctor's coat sighed as he rubbed the back of his head, and stetched his lazy muscles; well, that was the last patient he would be seeing for the day, he should probably get ready to pack up and leave the hospital for the next doctor on shift to show up. Not like anyone would blame him for finishing his rounds earlier than the expected knocking off time; the number of patients had dropped recently, and everyone should be thankful for that, in all honesty, that there were fewer and fewer patients each day. It meant that things were finally returning to normal...

He gave a shrug of his shoulders, getting up from his chair with a squeak. Another sigh, and his hands did all the packing. Before long, a striking bam of the door shocked him out of his wits; he almost cursed aloud for whoever who had given him the greatest shock of his doctor life. An orange eyebrow twitched when he caught sight of the famed blonde, who had certainly given him an impression of how social workers really worked in society, standing at the door, resting against the edge and panting as if she had made it through a marathon.

"Matsumoto Rangiku-san, hah?" he scowled, name rubbing off as if it had been spoken countless of times. "You'd better give me one hell of a good reason why the hell you're here."

"Y-you're...Kurosaki Ichigo-kun, yes?" the blond woman asked frantically, ignoring the question directed at her. "The doctor I heard so much about from my colleagues...the one who earned a degree in psychology just last year?"

"Uh...yeah, why?"

She clapped her hands together and gave a sigh of relief when her shoulders suddenly slumped. "I finally found you..." And without saying anything else, she sped out of the room, leaving the orange-haired teenager by himself in the room. He blinked confusedly, mentally scolding the woman, and resumed his packing. Just as he was willing to forget the matter that had transpired earlier, another piercing thud stunned him out of his position; he nearly tripped with himself when the sound came louder than before.

But what stopped him was not the fact that she looked dead worried, but the fact that in her hands was a handle each, connected to a wheelchair of petite size compared to the other wheelchairs he was used to seeing, and on that wheelchair was but a mere child. A child with hair so white and eyes so green that triggered a scene within his mind; a scene of nothing but snow and ice, with blades of grass sprouting from underneath the chilling soil; hope, a scene of hope. This child was a symbol of hope; it was just a matter of whether or not he acknowledged it.

"Ichigo-kun, it's a pleasure to see you," Matsumoto greeted, lips curling to a wide smile. "Matsumoto Rangiku; I'm sure you already know me." Ichigo took her hand and shook it stiffly. The blond social worker then ran her hand through the tuft of white hair, stroking a few strands of the silky white hair, rubbing them in between two fingers. "This cutie-pie here is Hitsugaya Toushirou-kun. This may be a little unexpected, but from now onwards, I'll be entrusting him to you."

"Entrusting...? Him to me?" It was a first; having had to take care of someone without being informed beforehand. This was unlike having patients seeing him; no appointments were made, no phonecalls, no notices...nothing.

"Yup. I really hope you'll take him in. You see..." she paused, frowning slightly. "The orphanage he was staying at before was burned down one month ago. He doesn't have anywhere else to go, being the only survivor of that fire incident. I was in charge of him for a few years now; but my higher-ups are pressuring me. I can't just take care of Hitsugaya-kun alone and neglect the other children assigned to me, you know...and they deem his case impossible to handle. And besides, with his current condition, we figured you'd be the best person for the job. Onegai, Ichigo-kun; no one has been willing to take him in because of his appearance and condition. If you won't take care of him, we may have to keep him in a boys' home..."

Ichigo's frown deepened as he landed his gaze on the white-haired child before him; things really looked bleak for him, the poor kid. To suddenly ask him to do something like this...sure, of course he'd agree to take care of him but it was a tad bit out of the blue. What exactly was so bad about taking care of a child? It wasn't like he'd be of much trouble to anyone, especially since he had a condition...hang on. She said something about 'deeming his case impossible to handle'. What did she mean by that? That Toushirou was a hopeless case? That his path of life would be the path to a boys' home? He hadn't done anything wrong...at least, that was what he thought. But wouldn't whatever she say hurt the kid? He was sitting right there like nothing was happening, despite being the topic of the conversation...

"Oi, matte yo. Toushirou's down here, you know. Wouldn't whatever you say...hurt his feelings?"

Uneasiness settled in the atmosphere, masked by the thickening silence hung in the air. Blue-grey locked with hazelnut brown; fingers moving back to the handle of the wheelchair, the blonde closed her eyes and released a sigh from its inner realm. The orange-haired doctor waited, staring at the two of them, Toushirou in particular. He narrowed his eyes slightly at the child seemingly dozing off on the wheelchair; something wasn't right. Matsumoto only confirmed his suspicions when she opened her eyes, all seriousness seeping from her features. The deadpan voice was not what he expected from her; and what she said with that tone of voice was even more shocking above it all.

"Hitsugaya-kun can't hear what we're talking about, Ichigo-kun. He...is deaf."

_--Incurable01--_

An irritated moan left its cage as the medical prodigy rested his elbow on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His orange brows met each other; a firm, burly hand came to the files he was looking through and flipped all of them close. He had no idea the so-called kid he was dealing with...was merely three years younger than he was. He certainly didn't appear that way; his understanding of the human physical build and stature told him that Toushirou was most likely not older than eight, yet...he was already into his thirteenth year of life.

It was most likely his nutritional balance was connected to his growth; an unhealthy lifestyle could eventually lead to something like this, especially since puberty should've had kicked in by then. Just how much **was **this guy eating? Ichigo saw him barely touch his food during dinner...the meal provided was already made according to the recipe of recommended food for him, personally written by his social worker. Even though he was informed about his patient's exceptionally poor eating habits beforehand, he was still slightly baffled by the lifestyle he was leading.

And it wasn't just that that was bothering him...

He opened his eyes to the dim, white light of his tablelamp, forehead pressed against his palm as if trying to relieve him of his migraine. A click of the door made him turn; even in the darkness, the pure white hair and striking teals had given him the hints he needed. Silence made its presence before it was chased away by the soft wheeling of the wheelchair. The teenager stopped in the corner of the room, facing the window panels and the closed curtains as he allowed his eyes to close, awaiting sleep to arrive.

Ichigo suppressed the sigh at his chest at the sight; Toushirou didn't even bat an eyelid when they looked at each other. It was a sign of uncertainty, a sign of misunderstanding; it was evident that Toushirou was not a very trusting person. Was it safe to assume that this part of his personality developed over the years without him even realising it?

No, of course he hadn't realised it; just like how he hadn't realised that he had forced his vocal chords to go stiff by not muttering even a single word during this period of six years. It wasn't muteness, per se, but it was akin to forcing oneself to isolation from others by keeping his opinions and thoughts to himself. It was even likely that he wasn't thinking much at all. Ichigo could recognise this as the brain subconsciously blocking out all distractions and thoughts that didn't concern the traumatising experience he had; it was unhealthy for anyone who had that condition. Keeping his mind stuck to the events of the incident which landed him in this plight would ultimately drive him to the brink of insanity.

Ichigo was impressed that Toushirou hadn't gone mad yet.

All the other patients with quite similar cases sought treatment from him to relieve them of their suffering in the depths of madness; experience told him that when the patients fall into the arms of chaos and mindlessness, it would be near impossible to retrive them back without doing permanent emotional damage. A tragic experience, through and through, but he was a doctor; a doctor does not shun away from his duties and responsibilities. Protecting his patients' needs were his top and foremost priority as a doctor and psychologist.

Even so, he didn't give up on his patients; he'd deemed himself damned if he dared to even think about ditching them to fend for themselves. And Toushirou was not going to be any exception. He was going to be treated exactly how Ichigo had treated his earlier patients, and hopefully, the blades of grass amongst the snow would grow without fail with that treatment.

He stole a glance at his new patient sleeping peacefully on his wheelchair, noiselessly pulling the curtains away. The moonbeam shone upon the two of them, reflecting especially the young teenager's hair beautifully, suiting the deep ocean blue night sky mood. He ran a finger down the other's cheek, smiling at the sight warmly. His action sunk in, replacing the smile with a slightly open jaw of surprise instead, and moved the finger away. What was he doing? Acting so close... Toushirou was just a patient and nothing more...right?

Whatever it was, it would be best if he kept the initmacy to minimum. After all, he was entrusted the task of taking care of him, and finding a way to untie the knot in his heart, finding the key to unlock the door of his mind, and eventually take things at a slow yet quick pace to get the beat of the cure, not warming up to him this much. Helping him was his priority; but first things first...he had to get Toushirou to talk.

_--Incurable01--_

Ichigo was an early riser; everyone in his family knew that. He'd get up before the sun even rises and leave the house to report for work just when his dad would awake. The habit had stuck with him since his schooling days; he was well-known in his schools for reaching there before the gates would even open. So on that day, it was no surprise to him that his family wasn't awake just yet, especially since it was four in the morning. However, it was indeed a different story when it came to the child with white hair and green eyes known as Hitsugaya Toushirou, still settling in his wheelchair, still sitting in front of the windows, but already gazing out into the twinkling night skies.

'Toushirou? You're up already? It's only four in the-oh, yeah. I forgot," he mumbled to himself in frustration, slapping himself on the forehead; how the hell could he have forgotten? No, in the first place, why didn't he think about that factor last night? Toushirou was deaf, for crying out loud; did he seriously think he could get Toushirou to respond if he couldn't even hear him?

He sighed loudly, knowing that the other couldn't hear him anyway, and rose from his bed, walking in the direction of the bathroom. The white-haired adolescent was left in the room alone, staring out of the window with seemingly empty eyes. And with those eyes, reflected the street lights that were illuminating the empty pavements and roads, the many lights of the neighbouring apartments, and the diamond-like stars dancing in the skies.

Another source of light, brighter than that of the street lights', caught his eye. Under the flickering glow on the road came a truck; a truck, of which the head was dyed a deep blue shade, and the body, splashed with nameless silver. Said truck stopped before the traffic light, trembling as the engine and gears did their work. The lights suddenly went out, darkening the entire town's atmosphere. Hitsugaya didn't bat an eyelid.

He wheeled himself around, rolling towards the door silently. Occasional bumps into the walls and furniture seemed like nothing to him; he just carried on wheeling himself along the corridor, and down the flight of stairs at an unbelievably fast pace. The wheels slowly turned sideways, the strongly handicapped patient falling off face flat on the carpeted floor while his wheelchair crashed against the furniture, knocking a vase over. From the bathroom, Ichigo dashed out upon hearing the shatter of the porcelain vase and raced to get to the limping teen before the unthinkable should happen.

As Hitsugaya reached out and got a hold of the front door handle, Ichigo's firm grip on his wrist held him back, pulling him to the floor again. Glares were sent at each other, the white-haired patient's being much more effective by sending icy chills down the other's spine. The orange-haired doctor shook his head; the room was spinning uncontrollably all of a sudden...

_Eyes of the same redness rolled to the back of his head, showing only the whites before the heavy eyelids drooped over to cover the frightening sight. The white-haired child brought his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes shut, lowering his head as he allowed the rain to bathe him of the blood._

With a gasp of shock, he released his hold on the white-haired other and fell to the ground, vision clearing up at almost an instant. How that image surfaced in his mind, he hadn't a clue. But it had nothing to do with Toushirou, he was sure of it; it was only then did he realise the look of horror splashed on the other's face, indicating that he didn't know what was wrong or why he had been pushed to the ground like that. And he hadn't a single idea of his jaw being cracked upon being smashed against the floor; all he knew was an itchy warmth trickling down from his nose and mouth, a stinging pain lingering on his face and seemingly clawing at him.

He strained to get up, but his knees gave way far too suddenly. The mortified doctor, who had never seen this much blood for a long time, rushed over to the young patient, carrying his head up to his lap and caressing his face tenderly. To hell with intimacy; Toushirou was in pain, and as a doctor, he had to ease the pain somehow. And the look on Toushirou's face loosened slightly as he stroked it; it was quite a relief for him. But he couldn't relax now.

Carrying the semi-conscious teenager bridal-style, he shook the sudden dizzyness out of his head and gave the front door a strong, powerful kick. He dashed out into the rain, splashing the puddles of muddy water all over the road. The rough cement and rocks drew fine lines along the soles of his feet, sucking the blood out. But he raged on; the hospital wasn't that much further away. Just...a few more streets up ahead...

_The blood of his own dripped onto the puddle and swam about in the water before residing with the rest of the blood which had belonged to another injured party; the sight of blood had never fazed him this much before...Eyes of the same redness rolled to the back of his head, showing only the whites before the heavy eyelids drooped over to cover the frightening sight. The white-haired child brought his hand to his mouth and closed his eyes shut, lowering his head as he allowed the rain to bathe him of the blood._

An excruciating pain ripped at his mind; what the hell was going on!? These visions...what were they!?

"Shit!" His face slammed against the cold, cemented road while the weight which his arms bore dissipated into nothingness. Blood streamed down his face from his forehead, staining his vision a deep shade of crimson. But one thing was clear: the tuft of white hair which laid upon the middle of the road was starting to grow dangerously red. "Bloody hell...Toushirou!" Ichigo leapt to his feet and pulled the bloody child to his arms frantically. The pain was brought upon once more, this time worse than the one before it, but he tried to ignore it as he made a run for it.

_"...saka...Kusaka...Kusaka!!"_

First the visions...and now a voice in his head...had he truly lost it? But he doubted so; a person who was mentally unstable wouldn't claim to be so. On the other hand, he had absolutely no recognition of this voice ringing incessantly in his mind like an alarm blaring in his ears. And he knew of no Kusaka either.

...No, he couldn't stop to think. His top priority was to stop the bleeding once he reached the hospital grounds. The equipment at the hospital would be much more useful than the pint-sized first aid kit he had back home, and at the same time, he could run a thorough check-up on himself to make sure he hadn't gotten any infection. Red ate at his vision; he hadn't much time left on his hands. The hospital was just a few hundreds ahead. Ichigo sprinted, jumped up the flight of stairs and ran past the automatic door.

The white sheets were soon dyed crimson while they soaked the fluid oozing from the injured party's nose and mouth. Hitsugaya was rushed to the OR by the neatly uniformed staff with a doctor who had just finished his rounds offering to run a check-up on the boy to make sure he was alright. The orange-haired strawberry mentally thanked the doctor before looking up at the pale, white ceiling which had suddenly gone a deep shade of red, eyes rolling to the back of his head and blackness biting away at his vision as he fell on the icy tiles.

* * *

_Hitsugaya Toushirou, age 13. Birthdate unknown; blood type AB; 133 cm, and overly underweight. Nutritional balance is highly unstable; there is a need to provide him with the food listed below in order to help overcome this problem._

_Not much is known about the young child; all we know is that he was abandoned by his parents after he was born, and when they did just that, they died on the spot. We have not found out as to how Hitsugaya-san survived living the life of poverty all these years, but there is a connection between him and another unidentified party. It has been known that this unidentified caretaker has passed on after the car accident which took place six years ago._

_It has been noted that Hitsugaya-san was sent to an orphanage, and that this unidentified person was taking care of him, well-known around the staff for paying him frequent visits but not leaving his/her name on the visitors' list. We are unable to uncover anything about him/her after the orphanage was burned down. Source of fire is unknown; there was no arson set to the orphanage, but it was still burned down eventually. Matsumoto Rangiku-san, our most famous social worker in our company, has been appointed the task of taking care of him._

_However, as time passed by, we noted that Matsumoto-san has been neglecting the other children's needs and solely attending to Hitsugaya-san's. We do not think that it is a bad thing, but it has a negative impact on the other children assigned to her. Therefore, with all sincerity, we hope that you accept the sudden task of taking care of Hitsugaya-san and, at the same time, find the cure to his psychological condition. Hitsugaya-san is a case that is hard to handle, with him being affected by his hearing deficiency since young, and his muteness most likely caused by the traumatic incident that happened to his caretaker six years ago; he is unwilling to open up, nor let anyone but Matsumoto-san interact with him. Our child psychologist expert could do nothing for him._

_We now acknowledge you, Kurosaki Ichigo, as the official caretaker of the orphan, Hitsugaya Toushirou, and we hope you would do your best in your venture to save this precious, fragile life._

_Thank you.

* * *

_

**_...What if I can't save that life?_**


	2. Cursed Burden

Author's Note: I haven't received more than two reviews for a fic in a while. I was really happy to read all the reviews for this fic. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all. -bows- By the way, can anyone verify how true this statement is? "Readers like the works of writers who have their own style of writing"?

Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Bleach nor the chapter titles.

* * *

_Only one door separates life and death. The two being the knowledge of the universe, the epitomes of all that lie beneath them; yet are separated by one mere door in our world. Life, it is the code of all organisms; and death, it is the ending of one's story. Should the paths of life and death intertwine, their endings are to be the same: production. Destined to be the code of the universe, life is to become death once life comes to its end. Destined to be the ending of all, death is to become life once the ending arrives; for whenever there's an ending, there will always be a new beginning._

_To think that only a single type of door has the power over life and death, the two theories that revolve around us. It may be a mere door, but it, like the denizens and formations on the earth, has a fraction of the powers of life and death within it. Manufactured by the hands of the living, and produced out of death; and as for the living, they are all still born alive, but with a chance to encounter death during their course of life. This door, looked down upon by all, is thought to be a simple door which was made to serve its function: an entry to a room. Just like any other door._

_He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh; the thought of using that door never crossed his mind. Restoring life from death was his job, his main objective in his own life. The cursed door leading to the equally horrid room was a corner in the hospital which he refused to get close to, or even talk about. But the time for him to use that very 'simple' door would inevitably arrive. It just came sooner than he expected; at a time where someone not related to him in any way was lying in the middle of that room, calling for him while her fingers twitched and trembled in his direction._

_The sight was as unbearable as the atmosphere in the room._

_He stopped by her deathbed, reached out and held the hand by the wrist, putting it back down to the deathly cold body. He shook his head when the one losing life opened her mouth to speak; he remained standing, looking down at her with his brows knitted and a fine line along his lips. Not a single flinch was evident even as the gasps replayed itself while a white river trickled down the edge of her mouth, camouflaging itself with the bed sheets. He reached in his pocket, picking out a piece of tissue paper, and wiped the pungent fluid away from the victim's lips. A weak smile fell upon them; her lifeless eyes staring at the angular face hovering above her, she felt her eyelids fall to a half-close while her eyes moistened and chilled._

_"Ichigo-kun..." she murmured, voice barely above a hushed whisper. "Ichigo-kun...thank you...for taking care of...Hitsugaya-kun for me...and I am sorry...that you had to be...dragged into this...with me... Words can't express...what I'm feeling now...but there is something...that I have to tell you..."_

_The doctor stared, awaiting for the parting words._

_"Ichigo-kun...Hitsugaya-kun is actually..."

* * *

_

**Incurable 02**

**Cursed Burden**

* * *

The sunlight reflected off his glistening teal orbs, the containers of life. He glanced out into the greenery and traffic below; hooligans loitered about the streets, cars of various paint honked and clogged the roads, butterflies danced about the stage of air, while the birds spread their wings and soared into the blanket of blueness that held coats of white fluffiness. With the performance relaying the message of life, he too wished to experience it for himself and realise what exactly he had been missing out during the time period he spent in the home of someone who was no longer a stranger in his eyes.

He ignored the creak of the door behind him, the clanging of the metallic tray against the study desk; he reached out instead, embracing the coolness of the glass with his palm, stroking it with stiffened fingers. Along with that coldness came a warmth concentrated on his right shoulder, spreading through his veins. He knew the source of the warmth, but found no need to turn to look at the face he had been seeing for every single day of the week.

What had taken him away from his daydream had been the invasion of a porcelain spoon taking up a portion of his vision, filled with the white solution produced from rice grains and mixed with small chunks of a freshly steamed fish. He stared at it with a frown etched on his features; yet the one standing next to him had a smile on his face, mouthing to him the need for him to have his breakfast, at least.

The doctor's white-haired patient could only look at the alien food before staring into the hazelnut orbs, frown still attached to his skin. The smile only broadened at the reaction; bearer of such a smile ran his fingers through the snow white hair and caress the other's smooth, baby soft cheek. He then held the spoon once more, placing it at a short distance away from the young adolescent's mouth. When the lips refused to move, a sigh escaped his chest and a frown fell upon his lips; nudging the child-like mute to look in his direction, he brought the edge of the spoon to his mouth, tilted his head back and allowed the porridge trickle down his throat, filling his stomach with its warming freshness.

Scooping yet another spoonful, he held it before the dazed boy; nothing noticeable could be smelled, but judging by how his doctor had just gulped one spoonful of it, perhaps it was edible..but he hadn't an idea if it was healthy to eat something so early in the morning. Should he trust him, he couldn't decide at the moment.

Eyelids fell over the emerald eyes while a sigh was breathed out into the messy mixture. He licked the dripping grain, bit off a meat chunk, and swallowed. It wasn't half-bad. He found himself pecking at the mystical food rather enthusiastically after grabbing the bowl from the other's burly hands; his ravenous appetite from the past seemed to have acted up at that time of tasting the food prepared by the seemingly composed doctor who had taken with him a piece of paper and two fine markers dyed with the ink of black and blue respectively. He picked at the cap of the black marker and pressed the tip against the paper, making fine strokes of kanji and hiragana across vertically.

**Do you like the porridge I made?**

Hitsugaya gazed into the black ink cautiously, following every single stroke as quickly as he could. It wasn't fairly simple to make out what had been written, but for some reason he could understand the meaning behind those words. It was just that simple word 'porridge' glaring at him that he did not comprehend. He glanced at the mixture, deducing that the term to describe this phenomenal food was 'porridge'.

Initially when the orange-haired adolescent handed him the blue marker, he hadn't a clue what he meant by that. Was it to take or to leave? But Ichigo pointed the marker at the words, following the Japanese words carefully with the marker stroking the paper in the same direction as did the way he had written his sentence, and Hitsugaya derived the message from the action. He wheeled himself over to the desk, grabbing a hold on the blue marker, and popped the cap that was concealing the blue tip. He made his first stroke as carefully as he could, followed by another stroke...and then another.

Ichigo watched the young white-haired teen make a slow choice of words; from personal experience, when traumatised, a child would opt not to continue pursuing education and would rather confine himself or herself in the house. In more serious cases, the thought of leaving one's room would not even cross the child's mind. Should the period of trauma last for more than two years, he would fall behind his classmates who had already moved up to further grades; with no other way to catch up or to be socially accepted by his peers, the child would gradually sink further into despair, adding more salt to the wound instead of antibiotic gel. Suicide would be inevitable by then.

But if his hypothesis was on the right track, then Toushirou was not one of those kids who would kill himself at such a young age. It was highly likely he wanted to be like other normal teenagers; going out on dates, receiving education, sitting for major exams, attend concerts of favourite bands...but he just didn't know the right way out of his world that was tainted with darkness. For a case like Toushirou's, it was a challenge like no other. But the Kurosaki male would not give up just yet; there was still a lot to work on in order to help Toushirou get over his depression.

The only question was, would he let him?

A tug at his sleeve snapped Ichigo out of his chain of thoughts; he glanced down at the paper, the blue marks that had sprawled over half of the paper were glaring straight at him. He sucked in a deep breath; took him long enough to get the answer that both of them wanted.

_Yes._

Ichigo smiled at the younger warmly, patting him gently on the head before moving on to tapping onto the device attacked to the other's ears. Hitsugaya locked with his chocolate brown eyes, blinking confusedly; but the orange-haired doctor's resolve stood clear. Perhaps it was time to add fertiliser to the single blade of grass growing in the midst of the snow...and let the way of life breathe into the land.

_--Incurable 02--_

If it was anything that the orange-haired doctor hated, it would be that damnable door leading to the room wherein death laid. His first trip there, he swore, had been an unforgettable experience, and just looking at the white paint splashed over the wood gave him the shivers, not the freezing temperature from the room. That day had been his first time going there, and he had wanted it to be his last. But fate did not seem to like it if he had too much of life in just a mere pair of hands; a pair of hands that was created to heal, yet to end another's life as well.

A cool touch came upon his back. He sighed, a puff of whiteness escaping from his mouth, and turned to face the man - teenager, actually - in charge of assisting the forensic scientist overlooking the death room. A scowl was firmly affixed to his face as he watched his childhood friend remove the mask string tucked behind his ear, shaking his head vigorously while re-tying the crimson locks barely touching his shoulders. The look on Ichigo's face said it all; Abarai Renji could only make a careful choice of words before he could even think about replying.

Hair standing firmly on its own, Renji released his hold on the band and proceeded on to remove his garments. "What Kuchiki-sensei told me was much harsher than what I'm gonna tell you, Ichigo," he warned, tugging at the velcro holding the uniform together. "The deceased died 'cuz of loss of blood. We opened him up; he's got a burst artery. The pulmonary artery, at that. We don't know how the heck that could've happened during the operation since you were overseeing it, especially when everything was going well."

"Yeah, he died just as I was about to finish up the stitches."

The redhead only sighed at the reply, tossing the lab uniform into the clothes bin at the corner of the room. He picked against the rubber coat, tugging it off his hands. "Ichigo, don't say I didn't warn you again. You've got to stay away from that kid."

Ichigo watched his friend's every movement, brows falling to a serious, glum expression. Renji had never been quite the optimist; first time they met, he already knew how to swear at other people. Growing up in the remote town, they went to the same school, had been in the same class, graduated and went to the same university. The only difference: the courses they opted wherein their abilities had been put to the enhancement tests. Perhaps being in the forensic science course had changed his thinking, or perhaps he didn't know a single damned thing about psychological trauma. But this wasn't the first time they had gone over the matter, and Ichigo knew Renji didn't know a thing. He wouldn't understand, even if he had explained to him.

He glanced at the marble tiles, sticking his hands into his pockets. It had been so long since he had Toushirou in his care; Rangiku-san entrusted him the task of finding a way to untangle the knot in his heart. He wouldn't give Toushirou up so easily, and as much as he hated to admit it, that was one thing that Renji knew but didn't comprehend. What Rangiku-san had told him, he had kept it to himself. What Rangiku-san wanted him to do, everyone knew. But the only person who didn't know anything was the person whom Ichigo didn't want to inform. He only told him, Rangiku-san had left for a better place. And yes, she had, but his interpretation of 'a better place' was something else altogether. And the one who was kept in the dark about the truth had believed that she would visit him whenever possible. That possibility was drawn to a close; he would never see those golden locks again.

And after her departure, he had sworn to take even better care and responsibility in helping his key patient. His superiors had warned him against neglecting the other patients assigned to his care, and he had gotten into boiling soup for that. His recent salary was barely enough to pay for his daily necessities, let alone Toushirou's medical fees. Renji and Rukia attempted to talk him out of it; tried all means and ways to convince him that what he was doing would not only jeopardise his career, but also his right to continue working in the field of medicine. But the strawberry paid no heed; Toushirou needed him, and he was the only person in the entire town who understood that.

A doctor's prerogative to treat his patients should stand above all other matters. A psychologist's task to untie the knots made was to be fulfilled. He had promised Rangiku-san that; and a promise was more powerful than any other verbal contracts. It was not to be taken lightly; the requirements for a promise were to be met. Otherwise a promise would no longer be an agreement the promiser should abide by. Why was it that the townspeople had such shallow thinking? Why was it that no one could agree that the path he had chosen to walk on was the right path? Why was it that all the good guys had to suffer the consequences of crimes they didn't even commit? Could anyone even answer those questions, he wondered to himself. Weren't the citizens in the town too superficial to even think about that? He pondered, and pondered, and pondered. His mind could make out no answer.

"I won't do that, Renji," Ichigo retorted. "It's only been one year, and Toushirou has shown progress only this morning. I don't want to leave him all alone and let him think the worst of everything. All my efforts would be going to waste, and I don't want that to happen, dammit."

Renji frowned. "You know the kid's a gone case, Ichigo. What's the point of carrying on, hah?" When his orange-haired colleague made no reply, he sighed again while throwing the pair of soiled gloves over to the garbage pile. "Look, Rukia and I are worried about you. We just don't want anything bad to happen while you're taking care of that kid. Rumours are going 'round, Ichigo, and you know that. How can you expect Rukia and I to stand there and do nothing?"

Rumours. Rumours of him and Toushirou going out, they say. Rumours of him and Toushirou being long-lost brothers, they say. Rumours of him and Toushirou conducting the recent murders, they say. Well, whatever they were saying was **wrong.** Yes, they were going out; going out for healthy walks in the park. Going out to get some food and drinks to let them kill some time while staying at home; going out for Toushirou to experience the outside world. All those 'going outs' were supposed to help Toushirou regain his self-esteem and understanding of what he had been missing out in the real world instead of confining himself in his own world where nothing but blood and death occupied. It would do his respiratory and circulatory systems good.

But them being long-lost brothers was really out of the question. Had they been brothers, Ichigo would've had already known it beforehand. DNA sampling was no longer alien to the doctors, even if it was just a small hospital in an even smaller town. And Ichigo was from a pure Kurosaki bloodline. He didn't know about Toushirou, though. Anyone who heard of the family name Hitsugaya would cower in fear or sometimes even commit suicide; from what he could tell, from the files he had received, Toushirou was the only of the Hitsugayas left in the town, and possibly, in the whole of Japan. The murder part...

"Something you oughtta know, Ichigo. Kuchiki-sensei is viewing the video of you performing the operation." Ichigo glanced up at the red-haired scientist heading towards him; he placed his hand on his shoulders, gripping it tightly as if to ease his anxiety. "I hate to say this, but he found something wrong during the op. I thought things went okay, but...I guess not."

Speak of the devil and the devil arrives; the doors opened, the cool air bringing along the particles of the dead bodies breezing past them, and a masked doctor exiting from the door, removing his cap and gloves beforehand. The raven-haired pathologist in charge of this case dropped all of the laboratory uniform parts into the clothing bin, making his way towards the orange-haired strawberry. His eyes narrowed slightly; said strawberry swallowed a lump of his saliva, rubbing the tip of his tongue against the bridge of his teeth. Even with Renji holding onto his shoulder, he couldn't calm himself down. When Kuchiki Byakuya was concerned, it was business. Serious business. Something had gone wrong.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, come with me. And you, Renji, call for Rukia's team. Prepare for the moving of the body," ordered the stoic pathologist, heading for the door once he was done talking. Renji patted his friend's shoulder continuously before leaving for the forensic department; Ichigo gulped once more and trailed behind his friend's brother-in-law. His intuition, as both a doctor and a psychologist, told him that something had gone horribly awry during the autopsy that Kuchiki had conducted; no, it was more likely to have the man pointing out a fatal mistake while viewing the recording of the operation.

Ichigo couldn't remember exactly what happened during the operation; in the morning, he just took Toushirou out for a walk, as per normal. They encountered this pale guy sitting on the bench in the park, alone, grasping his head and moaning in pain. All Ichigo did was leave Toushirou alone for a while to check if something was wrong the guy and see if he could deduce what he could be suffering from. But instead of words describing the patient's pain, his reply had come in the form of crimson, spat all over the area just a few feet away from his seating; Ichigo found Toushirou lying on the ground, a puddle of blood surrounding his face and staining the left of his face deep crimson. He was just a single doctor, what was he to do other than bring both of them to the hospital? As unexpected circumstances would predict it, the guy was suffering from some form of lung and heart disease. Toushirou just had an abnormal nosebleed. As usual, the orange-haired doctor noted.

During the surgery, he was sure everything was going perfectly well; the assistants were all helping him, he had followed the procedures...everything. It was just at one point of time whereby a mild complication had occurred, but that wouldn't cause the patient's death since it was fixed. But the old man just died. Just like that. The heart monitors could track no heart beat nor blood pressure. Everything had gone flat, nil, straight, yes, gone. And now they say preliminary cause of death had been the bursting of the pulmonary artery, leading to major internal bleeding, instant death; if he had heard correctly, it was bursting. But he had been a witness to the so-called bursting; the artery didn't burst at all. The patient just died; his pulmonary artery had disappeared, not burst. They probably mistook it for bursting since valves are present in the heart. With the pulmonary valve still present, and the opening for the blood in the artery to pass to the lungs still present, it sounded more like it had burst and left no traces of itself.

But had they also misunderstood him? Had they thought that he had been the one who caused his death? He thought about it; the higher-ups were already very concerned about the strange deaths occurring in the town due to some medical conditions; heart attacks, brain haemorrhages, cancer...and now bursting/disappearing blood vessels. If he had said that no one was worried for their safety, he'd be lying through his teeth. The main city had sealed off all passages leading and exitting the town, spreading word and law that an epidemic was plaguing the townspeople, and whoever dared to defy the government by entering the little village would be banished to die in the town. Everyone was thrown into panic; it was no surprise that even the heads of the various departments in the hospital and the police were beginning to suspect someone spreading a viral leak. It was an even smaller surprise that they would begin watching him.

After all, all of these unnatural occurrences had stemmed from his meeting with the white-haired child.

The halls were as silent as silence could ever be. There was no doubt about it; he could hear even the brushing of the pathologist's hair, the fineness of the polished shoes stepping towards in the direction of the head doctor's office. This was no longer something he should be frightened about; it was akin to visiting the principal during his younger school days. If it wasn't a matter about his conduct in class, it would be a fight outside school, causing a casualty or two to be hospitalised. The only difference was, he had made no mistake during the course of the operation.

Would the head doctor let him off again? This was the third time in a row he lost a patient to the clutches of the devil, all concerning a matter of complications during surgery. One died of serious muscle convulsions; the other, of a pierced liver. The surgeons already had a bad impression of him when he was transferred from the clinical walk-in department to the surgical department; his first operation which he performed might've had been a success, but people still talked behind his back. Ever since then, he had started losing his patients to death, the finale of a book. It was his turn to reach the end.

"...I understand that you wish to take the child under your care, Kurosaki-san." Ichigo glanced at the familiar, motherly face smiling in his direction; he hadn't noticed he had dazed into space for that long that he didn't realise he had already entered the office. "But taking care of a child carries heavy responsibilities. Your work is getting affected. As a doctor myself, I too understand why you want to cure that child of his illness." She stroked her fingers against each other. "I suppose you have heard that his family was completely wiped out overnight, after they had abandoned him on the streets when he was merely one month old, yes?"

"...Ah. I know. I know everything about him."

Unohana stared into the younger doctor's eyes; they were blazing with an intent, seemingly unafraid of anything which might come in his way. "Everything?"

His reply came in the form of a nod, but no one else made the effort to show their understanding. Uneasiness quickly settled in, the atmosphere getting thicker by every passing second; no, something else didn't feel quite in place. It was a mistake to answer so bluntly. What the hell was he thinking, telling his superior that he knew everything...he was the one who initiated the promise not to tell anyone about having the knowledge of something which no one should even know. Since when did breaking promises become his forte, he didn't know. But he didn't even like the idea of committing to abiding by his pride placed in the promises, only to break them soon after. They were going to make him spill the beans; he knew what they were after. Every one of them was the same, even Rukia, even Renji, even Ishida...Chad...all of them. They were after him. They were pursuing the path of breaking a doctor and a patient up. And he had **let **them see his fear of that. How much deeper could he fall into the density of the human mind? He was damned, for all he knew; he couldn't shake his way out of the mess now.

"...Even about the Hitsugaya family curse? Do you know that as well?"

Ichigo sucked in the air; how the hell did they find out about...that? It was kept under wraps, between him and Rangiku-san. Only they knew about the existence of that. He had destroyed all of the evidence, no, he had confiscated and locked all of the evidence in the storeroom, a place he knew Toushirou could never go to due to his disability. He kept the act a secret for so long but it had all been for naught. The topic had been brought up; it wasn't like he could deny anything now, could he? Lying to all of the hospital staff would do him no good; on the contrary, he would be at the biggest disadvantage in this sticky situation. But telling the truth which they already knew of would be pointless...how did they unravel the mystery anyway?

"The Hitsugaya curse..."

_Don't say it..._

"...it has been known...as the last art of curses..."

_Stop it already!_

"As the name suggests...only the Hitsugayas bear it..."

_Don't continue saying anymore!_

"The curse started with a boy...born with hair of snow...and eyes of jewels..."

_Stop, dammit...stop...!_

"...known to have caused...the deaths of all those who come near him..."

_No, no, that's not it..._

"...and in the end...ended his life due to tormenting guilt..."

_It's not anyone's fault; just don't continue!_

"And now a boy...born under that cursed star...on the cursed night..."

_Shut the hell up!_

"...has become the bearer of the curse..."

_Stop..._

"...and the name of that boy..."

_Stop!_

"...is Hitsugaya Toushirou."

**"I'm telling you to stop, so just fucking stop already!!"**

All eyes went to the orange-haired doctor, bursting his thoughts aloud, panting in exasperation. He glared at all who dared take one good look at him; the tape immediately went to pause, the voice in his head halting to a stop, and the silence settling in the examining room once more. Doctors, nurses, pathologists, surgeons, psychologists, and all kinds of doctors present in the room assessed the medical prodigy known as Kurosaki Ichigo, taking down personal notes from observing his behaviour. Obviously, there was a tinge of fear from the many tell-tale signs; trembling, biting his lip till it bled, closing his eyes, clenching his fists, sweating profusely...it wasn't just fear alone, the many other colleagues and former schoolmates of the adolescent knew.

He had kept it within himself for so long; of course he was bound to go crazy. He thought he had destroyed the tape, the recording of the film of him and Matsumoto in the room that was filled with the scent of death, but he hadn't expected there to be a copy of the tape of which the head doctor had kept in her possession for so long. She had him transferred to the surgical department, for the sole purpose of watching him, under the orders of the village head.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, we have arrived at a consensus."

He glowered at the old village head, wishing for him to die on the spot. But that death never occurred.

"You will be charged for being the accomplice of a murderer whom you have harboured in your house; all of your property will be seized, and you and your family will be given a jail sentence for a lifetime." The orange-haired doctor muttered a curse under his breath; but the silence was so defeaning, even the doctors seated at the top most corners could her his swear of the colourful word of fuck. "You may say anything you like, Kurosaki Ichigo, but remember, you have the right to remain silent, and we will report whatever you say - if you say anything at all - to the court as evidence."

"Then Toushirou?" Ichigo asked; he just had to know, what would await his patient. "What about Toushirou? What're you gonna do with him?"

He heard the calm breathing of the people surrounding him, but one that stood out most was the sharp inhaling from above.

"Death."

* * *

**_They call Toushirou a monster;_**

**_A demon child;_**

**_The bearer of the Hitsugaya curse._**

**_All those who come near him_**

**_Shall be condemned and exorcised,_**

**_Like the hatred dwelling within a ghoul's soul._**

**_But have they ever wondered_**

**_That Toushirou is just like us?_**

**_Toushirou is a human; WE are humans._**

**_But they dare call a human a monster._**

**_Doesn't that make us_**

**_Monsters too?_**

* * *

**I've let you down, Toushirou.**

**Please forgive me.**


	3. Fade to Black

_Author's Note: This is the final chapter. After this and the epilogue, I will be concentrating more on the rest of my stories which are facing hiatus-ism. I hope you have enjoyed Incurable, and I hope you will enjoy the chapter as well -bows- (It is lacking in description, because dialogue is crucial here; I'm sorry...)_

_Disclaimer: I don't have to say it, do I?_

_Warning: Major OOCness (I tried to keep them IC, but it was quite hard for the situation at hand). Oh, and feel free to bash Yamamoto as much as you like in your reviews; I wouldn't mind. And (as noted by a few reviewers), this may be a little bit rushed._

* * *

_He flicked his hair, droplets of water falling to the marble sink and tiles, shattering into tiny, microscopic puddles, staining the floor. A finger pressed itself against the switch, the room thus darkened, and the orange-haired adolescent made his way up the staircase, rubbing against his head with a towel which ran the colour of emerald green. He passed by the door of white, only to find himself stop right beside it, peeking into the light seeping from the minute gap. A navy blue sleeve, resting against the table; Toushirou stayed up late again, huh?_

_Ichigo grasped the handle, revealing the light from the table lamp which illuminated the corridor smoothly. Stomping into the room like the bull he was, he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it instantly upon landing his sight on the tuft of snow popping up from in between the navy blues, still and firm in their position. He waited for a moment, and then another. Still, the marshmallow-like hair made not even the slightest movement. He glanced at the packet with pills of red and white next to the other's unmoving hand, reckoning that if he had any reason to wake Toushirou up from his sleep, it'd be to remind him to take his medicine._

_With a sigh, he nudged the sleeping child-like wonder, shaking him slightly by the arm. Toushirou barely even stirred. Ichigo attempted to wake him up by speaking in his ear but the hearing aid was gone from its place and nowhere to be seen. Ichigo heaved a sigh once more; sure, it was good that his little patient was finally willing to sleep after bearing creepy awakenings in the most ungodly hours for the past month, but he really disdained the idea of having his sleep disturbed, didn't he?_

…_He must be exhausted anyway, that Toushirou. Couldn't blame him for wanting a good sleep after so long, after all._

_Ichigo stood from his kneeling position and stretched some of his lazy muscles while giving out a large yawn. Maybe he should hit the bed as soon as he helped Toushirou tidy up his desk; what was he doing anyway? Pencils, markers, paint, erasers…all drawing mediums he could think of were sprawled all over his desk, dyeing it with many colour hues; the lead sharpened as if in preparation for a war between it and the paper. He didn't even realize Toushirou had purchased art materials at all…_

_He cleared the mess made by the worn out eraser, affixed the pastels and paint tubes to their boxes and shoved the covers over them. Just as he flicked the switch of the lamp off, a beam of cool, serene moonlight made its appearance through the undrawn curtains of the windows, dawning upon the white-haired sleeping beauty. Ichigo couldn't help it; he found his hand rubbing against the smooth, baby soft silk which was mistaken for hair, feeling every strand's perfect texture. How was it that Toushirou had been able to maintain the condition of his hair, he didn't know. But whatever it was, this was the true nature and beauty of the outcome of cultivating large scale crops over a plain of ice and snow._

_The marshmallow stirred slightly; what a mistake to stroke his hair…_

_Ichigo smiled faintly. He didn't say it aloud, but he certainly liked the special features which the child-like teen had bore. For him to land in such a plight…it was a sad tale. He blinked confusedly; now what was that which bore the same colour as the hair which he took upon as Toushirou's good feature? He grabbed the paper clammed by the blue sleeves, tugged it out gently, and ran his eyes all over the front of the paper, taking in all that was beautifully sketched and perfected on it. A sullen, blackened look blanketed over him._

This is…

_He bit his lip, rushing out of the room and into his own. He scanned the folders packed on the wooden shelves, removing one that had been dated a few years back, and fingered it open, staring at the pictures which greeted him._

I knew it…So it wasn't a curse after all.

* * *

**Incurable 03**

**Fade to Black**

* * *

A pencil rolled over the table top, descending upon the carpeted flooring with a soft tck. The second hand on the clock hung by the wall ticked ferociously, becoming the sole maker of what could be deemed as noise in the room. The fans of the air-conditioner blew at such intensity that even the young white-haired victim could hear them with the accompaniment of his hearing aid. But he, who was once used to hearing the noise of silence, was tempted to pick at the hearing aid and leave it aside. For good.

"...Sir, what did you...?"

"I said what I meant to say, brat. Now take your leave before I call for security to do the job for you," the town leader ordered emotionlessly, filing out the paperwork laid sprawn all over his working table.

Hitsugaya blinked into a deepened frown, his silvery white eyebrows raised and emeralds widened slightly, but blazing with such ferocity comparable to that of a tiger preying on a fawn. He was not about to listen to the so-called words of wisdom which the village chief had just bestowed, nor was he about to oblige to the outrageous order. The bald elderly watched his every action, to which he found that the child was not shifting a muscle. The tuft of marshmallow white hair, glistening in the flickering office lights, stood upright like spikes, but kept its usual tenderness like silk. But the eyes...those orbs of intense green, strong emerald teal, made him appear as if he was ready to pounce at him and rip his limbs apart, like the demon child he was.

Yamamoto, despite the fiery temper he was known for, was said to have feared no criminal on his watch, showing nothing of his emotions to any thief nor murderer who might not seem to wish to admit to their heinous crimes. But he was fearing inside; he was fearing for his position, for his life. The child whom he had sentenced to death was standing - yes, standing - right in front of him, demanding for something which he as the leader of the townspeople could not fulfil and said his piece, but the child dared not to move. What was really going through a demon's mind, he did not wish to know. Yamamoto could only hope that he would be able to see the sunrise of tomorrow after offending a cursed person affiliated with the devils.

But Hitsugaya, on the other hand, did not seem the share with the old man's opinions. "If you do not adhere to my request, then I will take matters into my own hands." Yamamoto bit his lower lip but said nothing. "Talk! I **know **you can!" the white-haired adolescent exclaimed, fury getting the better of his emotions, as he slammed his fists on the table, knocking the cup of tea over to the floor tiles. It smashed upon impact, sending bits and pieces of porcelain over the floor, the brown liquid seeping into the slim gaps of hardened cement between separate tiles. Yamamoto remained silent, fingers tapping his lap at a quicker pace with every passing minute of uneasiness.

"I've already told you what I wanted to tell. If you dare go against me--"

"Don't change the subject," Hitsugaya snarled, voice low and waning, dripping with venom. "Three years ago, you told my personal doctor that you were going to send me to my own death for deceiving you about my existence. When you failed to do so, you targeted him and his family instead. Even though you told him you were going to send his family for life imprisonment, you were still unable to let go of the fact that 'a demon child bearing the curse of his own family was still alive in the Kurosaki household' and decided that silencing him as well as his family would secure your position as the town leader while making sure that that so-called demon child would continue living as a mute for life, but known to everyone else as a threat being exposed of by you. Did you seriously think I was that stupid to fall for your trick?"

_"...Come, Hitsugaya Toushirou. We will bring you to a place where you will be able to live as a normal human, not as a demon child, not as someone who had been cursed by the gatekeepers of hell; Yamamoto-sama will ensure that you are kept safe."_

_Agonized pants and gasps filled the room, echoing as they bounced off the four walls. The white-haired teenager grasped the body in his arms, refusing to let go and follow them to the abyss of silence and isolation from the outside world. He would not let any one of them lead him to a future which no one could ascertain but the town leader himself; who knew what kind of tricks he had up his sleeve, ready to dispose at his mercy, that would certainly ensure that he remained quiet about the truth of the whole matter which had transpired not too long ago. He had yet been able to handle the entire truth, but he was still stable enough to discern wrong from right._

_An emerald orb glistened; he had to escape._

Petite, bony fingers curled into balls of fists, trembling violently as the pure white eyebrows twitched just as furiously at the memory flashing in his mind. "...I won't forget what you did, Yamamoto. But it is too bad..." he muttered icily, bringing up his right hand, index and thumb pinched together and then pressed the pair against his forehead, closing his eyes as if in deep thought. A sigh escaped his lips as he continued, "Whatever you have said earlier has been completely wiped from my memory; I'm deeply apologetic, sir, but what did you say just now?"

The thin line of patience finally snapped. "Kuchiki, Abarai, take this boy out of my sight at once!"

"H-hai, Yamamoto-sama!" the raven-haired female replied, elbowing her partner standing beside her; they opened the door with a bang while she shifted over to the shorter party, nodding at Renji before proceeding on to holding him by the arm. "Hitsugaya-san, let's get out of here."

Hitsugaya could only scowl even further before obliging; he shrugged them off his arms and turned, grasping the cool metallic door handle. As the door opened with a creak, he paused in his actions and glared at the threesome present in the office. "Don't think too highly of yourself, Yamamoto. I don't care if you've got many supporters who fear you and back you up. I will still..." Emerald eyes narrowed to thin slits. "...fulfil my promise to Kurosaki."

As he closed the door behind him, Yamamoto frowned at the departure of the white-haired adolescent who had made a scene at his personal working office; Rukia and Renji gave each other a perturbed look, bottom eyelid covering a fraction of the eye while eyebrows failed to meet. Hitsugaya might have had gone slightly too far, but even they knew that whatever he was speaking of may be the truth revolving the current bleak situation. It wasn't a good time to speak about matters concerning three years into the past, especially since the issue of the townspeople starving and falling prey to incurable diseases began around that point of time. Yamamoto was already as troubled as he was; with all of the strange occurences, no one knew what to believe anymore.

Should they give chase to Hitsugaya? Maybe not. They couldn't afford to be jailed for trusting a demon over their real leader. But they needed answers; no matter how they looked at it, he didn't seem to be someone who had been chosen by the demons as their key to wiping out the town, nor did he seem like someone who meant any evil at all. Even after Byakuya personally told them to keep their noses out of the main problem, they still needed to know what exactly happened three years ago, when the darkest hour of their life had occurred; it had caused an uproar to its peak as the hospital filled with casualties, and the forensic department, corpses of those involved in the bloodiest revolution recorded in the history of Karakura.

On the contrary, perhaps it was a better choice to believe in their leader - for now. Yamamoto was giving himself the headache of taking over all major problems happening in the town, striving to give the people enough food and lodging in order to live. The ban of any more villagers leaving or entering the place still carried on like the main government paid no heed to their cries for survival. At the hospital, even doctors and nurses were starving as they worked, but patients at least had better food than those healthy enough to suffer. Cases of feigning illnesses were a norm nowadays, but those cases evolving into people who had truly fallen ill no longer fazed doctors and scientists like them any longer. Yamamoto had sent letters of plea to his superiors, only to get no reply back. Rukia recognised his effort, though Renji was still skeptical about everything.

_"I will still...fulfil my promise to Kurosaki."_

...But what was that about? What had Hitsugaya-san meant by 'fulfilling his promise' to Ichigo? No, what exactly happened?

He first arrived, which came as a shock to them when they saw that he could move and speak normally, demanding to see the town leader and for them to personally escort him to his office in order to meet up with him. Merely a few minutes passed since they were told by Yamamoto to stand by the door, and they were already called for to take Hitsugaya away from him. They could neither hear nor see the two's scuffle from within the office walls, kept in the dark like how Ichigo had done so when he took the town's demon child under his care.

What promise had it been, they wondered. When their friend mysteriously disappeared from the eyes of many, they didn't know if he was going against the law and providing aid for his white-haired patient who obviously did not seem to be needing to receive anymore treatment. Had the promise anything to do with the Kurosaki case? What was it that Ichigo was hiding from even them, childhood friends who grew up together in the same village, the same town, the same school? No one was sure of anything with the exception of the Kurosaki and Hitsugaya pair.

However, one thing was for sure; the Kurosaki family wasn't going to see the sun of tomorrow.

_--I--n--c--u--r--a--b--l--e--0--3--F--a--d--e--t--o--B--l--a--c--k--_

The smooth glow of the moon illuminated the skies of darkness as the groans of agony and suffering chorused as one choir; the hospital staff, busy as ever, dashed about rooms and doors, grabbing the equipment that were required for use, and joined hands together to save one more precious life from slipping away into the gates of hell. What they believed in, was to carry on saving the lives under their care; their duty, their mission, to save their fellow citizens remained crystal clear; their desire to unravel the truth about the epidemic stood strong like their resolve to die as people who have served their part. That was what the doctors and nurses, the scientists and the pathologists, firmly stood by, unafraid of the claws of the gatekeepers of hell awaiting their arrival.

Soft footsteps played on the marble tiles. The owner of such fine, petite feet slithered past by the staff on duty, walking on and on about for its small trip around the hospital grounds, only to stop before a door dyed with a splash of sky blue paint and missing the trademark room number label. He looked at his surroundings; yes, it was fortunate that no one's presence could be detected. With a mental sigh of slight anxiety - this was the second time he had done something so secretive and got away with it - he heaved the dusty door open, closing it behind him to be engulfed by the dim light in the space.

He made his way over to the lousy excuse for a bed, landing his eyes on the figure straining to fight the restlessness in order to sleep. As usual, the blanket was missing, inclusive of a soft, cushiony pillow and a proper setting up of the structure of the bed; it was tilting towards him, the metallic ringing gaining volume as time ticked by. Just as he expected; he needed to get him out of here before he collapsed along with the bed. It was still quite hard to believe that anyone could be so heartless as to leave a patient there to die, but with a hardened heart, Hitsugaya had long gotten used to the unbearable antics.

"...Are you well, Kurosaki?" Hitsugaya only received a muffled groan as a reply. "I suppose it's better if you don't talk as of yet."

"Tou...Tou...Toushi...rou..."

"Don't talk," the white-haired adolescent repeated, trying not to sound as harsh as possible. "Goodness, how long must I take in order to get it sink in that peanut you have for a brain? You're just as hopeless as Kusaka."

A weak smile dawned upon the other's pale features. "I must be lucky, then...you're treating me like how you did Soujirou..."

Hitsugaya gave a barely noticeable scoff as he carried the ill doctor off the bed, positioning him in a comfortable setting against the wall. "You sure are talkative for someone who has pneumonia and throat infection." He gave the bed a budge, shifting it to the side of the wall where it would not be able to move for the time being, and dusted himself before simply sweeping the sheet of dullness across the bed, fanning it repeatedly as the balls of grey ascended the air. Coughing slightly, he placed the cover over the trembling orange-haired strawberry, preventing him from pulling the bed sheet any further up. "You have a fever, idiot. Don't cover your entire body like that, no matter how cold you are. Just settle for something like this."

"Heh, I never knew I had to be taught on how to fight a fever..."

"Shut up and sleep, Kurosaki. You need the rest." The white-haired 'doctor' grabbed a small packet of ice from his pocket and placed it gently on the steaming forehead, adjusting it so that it would not drop for the next few hours. It eventually fell beneath Ichigo's shirt instead, the chills of the ice spreading through his upper torso. He bit his lip, trying not to smile too much; he hated it when Toushirou glared at everything which would go wrong for him, and smiling would not get him in a position any better than this. Hitsugaya restrained a sigh as he held onto a cold pack instead, sticking it firmly on the feverish spot. "This should do."

"Thanks, Toushirou...hey, I feel better already..."

"...Don't be so quick to thank me, Kurosaki," he replied, sitting cross-legged in front of the horribly sick Ichigo. "I'm still unable to locate where your family is and no one is willing to believe me nor share information with me. I do know for a fact..." he paused. "...that Yamamoto is going to sentence them to death very soon," he muttered the last bit in a low, soft tone, barely above a whisper.

Ichigo stiffened a little. "Oh...I see..." He sucked in a bit of the air, only to feel an itch at his throat coming; he gasped out a few small coughs before the sound of something gurgling from his throat could be heard even by the former patient of his. Something wasn't right, anyone could tell that. Hitsugaya hissed as he ripped a piece of cloth from his clothes, pressed it against the opened mouth and waited, anxiously yet calmly. His foresight was proven to be spot on; it was barely for a mere few seconds after Ichigo had begun his coughing fits did the cloth start to fall into the river of crimson, stained with the metallic iron smell. As he felt his chest relax, he too fell back to leaning against the wall, straining to pick up a faint smile towards Toushirou. "Haa...haa..thanks again, Toushirou...you're a lifesaver..."

"Tch," Hitsugaya murmured, tossing the cloth dyed crimson aside. "You didn't tell me it had gotten this serious, you baka...The dust in this room isn't helping your condition at all; it's just making it worse. I need to get you out of here. Now. I won't let them leave you here to die."

_"Toushirou! Get away from there!" he yelled at the top of his voice, but the white-haired boy did not move an inch. He wondered why, only to spot the hearing aid hiding amongst the tiny blades of grass; a look of horror splashed all over his features. "Oh shit...Toushirou! Be careful!"_

**_ScreeeEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEeeeeeeeeeccccHHhhhh..._**

**_Bang_**

**_Thud_**

_"T-Tou...Toushirou..."_

The frail smile on Ichigo's face did not go escaped under Hitsugaya's eye. "What? Is something worth smiling over here?"

Ichigo just continued smiling. "Nah, it's nothing..."

"It'd better be; I don't want to carry a smiling lunatic around town," the white-haired teenager suddenly heaved a rasp under the weight of the strawberry against his back, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists as he did so. Before Ichigo could even think about worrying about him, he took another step forward and hid amongst the shadows of the back alleys, awaiting a few couples passing by to disappear from his sight before moving back into the flickering lampost lights guiding his way back to the Kurosaki household. "We're almost there, Kurosaki...and when we reach there, I expect you to get some sleep promptly. I don't want to see a tired idiot coughing up blood tomorrow morning."

When he received silence for an answer, he paused in his tracks and tilted back; a peaceful face of closed eyes greeted him, with calm, feverish breaths brushing past his neck like a slithering serpentine creature. Hitsugaya tensed a little as a result, but continued on his way back home. Along the way, he too failed to ignore how feverish he started to feel, the warmth that was suddenly grasping every fibre of his being.

_--I--n--c--u--r--a--b--l--e--0--3--F--a--d--e--t--o--B--l--a--c--k--_

_What...what was going on...?_

_Fear took hold of his heart and mind, raging through his veins; there it was again...the sound of silence. He could hear it ringing in his ears, the melody of air. He hadn't realised it...his hearing aid...it had slipped off from his ear and he didn't even realise a difference in the sound. But it would explain why the usual noise of the busy traffic had suddenly fallen to silence just a few moments earlier..._

_But why? Why hadn't he realised it earlier? Why was he going through the same thing as he did those few years ago? Why? First Kusaka, and now..._

_"T-Tou...Toushirou..."_

_...He was hearing. He was hearing again; something else other than silence. But it wasn't possible, his hearing aid was missing, and by right he should be deaf, just like any other time he removed his hearing aid. There could be no logical explanation behind a deaf person being able to hear anything at all after losing his hearing aid. But why was he...able to hear Kurosaki's voice? Was it nothing but a mere trick of his own ears?_

_"Toushirou...I...wanted to tell you something...about you and Soujirou..." Hitsugaya bit his lip till blood started to ooze; not about Kusaka again, Kurosaki...there were just far too many similarities between both of them for him to even handle properly. "Everyone thinks...Soujirou's dead...but Soujirou...he ain't dead...he's still alive, Toushirou...I know he is..."_

_Kusaka...alive? But that cannnot be. He saw him, he saw him die right in front of his own eyes; the memory was so painful to bear, so hard to think about despite falling to the claws of sorrow over his death. Kusaka was dead; he died while trying to protect him, died while pushing him away from the road, knocked down by a truck and stuck in between the front wheels beneath the truck's load. A pool of blood, seeping into the roughened cement, stretched into a never-ending form..._

Hitsugaya sat upright, panting as his eyes widened. A dream? More like a nightmare about the past...

The feverish feeling refused to leave, much to his annoyance. Why he was feeling this way, he hadn't a clue. It only reminded him of how sick Kurosaki had gotten since the accident involving an eerie similarity with Kusaka's own accident...The truck had knocked into Kurosaki like how it knocked into Kusaka; blood was all over the road while a storm brewed and rain started to fall; the only difference...Kurosaki miraculously survived, but with a pierced lung and spleen. The doctors fixed those in time, but couldn't do anything about his unexplained hellish drop in immunity; he had been prone to illnesses like colds and pneumonia, suffered from a few fits, before the head doctor decided it was time to strip him of his job. He was far too ill to carry on working.

He remembered how sly and quick Yamamoto was to suggest that they place Kurosaki in a ward where he would be able to recover. No wonder he didn't want anyone to know where he had placed him exactly, but Hitsugaya found out eventually after snooping around a few times but failing to get into Kurosaki's room when all of the hospital staff were requested to return to the hospital to be on full shifts twenty-four seven. He didn't know why Unohana later abandoned that practice; it just meant all the better for him since he was able to find Kurosaki and bring him home before he was left to die in there.

**Toushirou! Be careful!**

Wait...what?

_...Kusaka...? Kurosaki?_

'Be careful'...what did Kusaka mean? Or was it part of his memory that was reliving the experience for him? The day of the accident, Kusaka told him to be careful before he remembered falling flat on the stupid pavement...but he had no recollection of Kurosaki ever telling him to be careful. Unless, of course, three years ago, during the course of the accident where he lost his hearing aid, Kurosaki, like Kusaka, had told him to be careful of the truck coming in his direction...which would make perfect sense about why he heard both Kusaka's and Kurosaki's voices that were warning him. But about what the warning was about? What was it that he had to be cautious for?

His room, Toushirou! His room! Kurosaki Ichigo is...

_Kurosaki!? What about him?_

Something's not right...Check on him before it's too late!

Without thinking straight, Hitsugaya leapt off his bed and ran into the familiar corridor, stepping past the door quickly as he grasped onto the handle and held the door open. He looked around at the darkened surroundings, only to catch the pained rasps from the corner; he pressed the switch, light illuminating the entire room, and landed beside the bed. "What's wrong, Kurosaki?" When he received no answer, he reached out for the forehead. Heat instantly sparked his fingers; with a hiss, he withdrew his hand. "Hold on, I'll go get an ice pack..."

"W-wait, Toushirou..." Ichigo moaned, grabbing onto Hitsugaya's wrist. "You don't...have to...I've gone through this shit before...so don't worry..."

Don't worry? Don't worry!? Oi, how can you expect Toushirou to not worry when you're bleeding at the mouth, idiot!

A weak smile formed at his lips. "Heh, I see you're doin' well, eh...Soujirou..." he commented dryly, coughing slightly. "Still observant as ever..."

Hitsugaya glared at the orange-haired casualty. "You do realise that as long as you're holding onto me, Kusaka isn't going to stop yelling at you."

"What? He jealous?"

He heard Kusaka's voice mutter something incoherent but left it at that; he didn't want to be caught up in yet another of their childish scuffles. Ignoring the goofy grin on the other's face, he let a sigh escape and dragged the nearest chair towards the edge of the bed where Kurosaki's head laid and placed his hand on his forehead. It didn't really serve much of a purpose, but he did know for a fact that he had a slightly lower body temperature than other people of his age, and was hoping that at least would suffice for the time being.

"...You are such a bother, Kurosaki," Hitsugaya muttered, voice barely above a hushed whisper. "The next time something similar happens and you don't let anyone know about it, you'll have to suffer the consequences. Don't keep this a secret."

"Eh..so you figured it out, huh?" With a soft cough and clearing of his throat, the orange-haired strawberry grasped the side of his forehead. His fingers curled inwards and outwards in a continuous cycle, as if massaging an aching head. "Kinda expected it...Nothing escapes you, Toushirou."

"How long were you intending to keep me in the dark, you idiot? I can count how many secrets you've kept from me, all of which are serious matters. Do you honestly think I wouldn't be able to figure out that you have kept yet another secret to yourself? I'm not a moron like you," the self-proclaimed non-moron commented icily, subconsciously gripping onto Kurosaki's forehead.

Ichigo only replied with a warm smile, "You know why...I didn't want you to worry about me."

"That's not good enough a reason." With a slight pause, he continued, "And I highly doubt you've been receiving proper treatment there."

"What, chemotherapy? Just so you know, after three sessions or so, I've been feeling much better."

"I wasn't talking about that." Hitsugaya stiffened slightly. "They...never suggested to let you go for an operation, did they?" When his question was answered with passive silence, he sighed, "I knew it. They take your life as nothing."

"Hey, don't worry, Toushirou...I won't let them dispose of me so easily..."

"You'd better..." came the soft, muffled reply which had gone unnoticed by Ichigo's ears. Inhaling, he raised his voice to a slight minimum, "It's late. You'd better go back to sleep now, Kurosaki."

To his luck, Ichigo nodded, and seemed to have loosened up under the refreshing touch, while the fever appeared to die down just for a while. They remained still as time ticked by; Hitsugaya waited, and Ichigo finally relaxed into a semi-slumber state, mumbling a 'thank you' to the white-haired teenager by his side. Said thanked party paused in his action of standing up before whispering a 'good night' to him instead and reached out to switch the room light off, only to have the room darken with his finger merely a few milimeters away. Now that was odd; a bulb fusing, he could understand, but there could be only one reason why the entire house was totally engulfed in darkness.

He couldn't return to his room without risking any part of him getting injured; he bruised easily, just as easily as how he bled. The patches of mixed blue and black on his palms still remained, but at least Kurosaki caught no sight of them. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to hear the chirps of the birds of tomorrow. But of course, if he decided to stay in Kurosaki's room, he had no other alternative which would let him sleep for the night. At least there was a bed in his room, but not an extra in Kurosaki's...

Perhaps just staying by his side until morning came would be enough. It wasn't like Kurosaki would be able to awaken so bright and early in the morning with his condition anyway.

Toushirou, you're not alone in this house...

_What? Who else is here, Kusaka?_

...It's that old bastard. He's here, I don't know if for you, Kurosaki, or both of you.

_But how did he get in here anyway?_

Most likely he cut off the electricity system that caused the blackout...You have to be really careful this time, Toushirou.

_I know...It's a trap. He's trying to lure us out._

Hitsugaya held back a swear word as he hurried over to Ichigo's side and held him by his arms; the load on his shoulders and back was suddenly heavier than before. He ignored it, as much as he could, and staggered into the corridor, panting as he felt his way around the house. He took a slower pace, holding back to feel for his room, and gripped onto the handle, shifting it around. Opening the door, he reached and moved his fingers about in the darkness until the extent of a smoothness and tenderness of wood came upon his touch; right, it was the table.

There, he guessed, tugging at the rubber handle and giving the door a strong push. He pulled the wheelchair out of his room, wheeled it forward while taking small steps behind until a soft thud could be heard. Taking in a sharp intake of breath, he moved forward slowly, stepping down the stairs like a turtle, and reached the ground level as noiselessly as he could. From amidst the silence came a loud murmur; Kusaka was right. The old man was probably waiting for him outside, and it didn't sound like he was alone. He laid the sleeping strawberry on the wheelchair, and cautiously moved him towards the kitchen while eyeing the main house door.

_...They don't have the key...as long as they have no other alternative to get inside, I have some time to think of a way to--_

But alas, the door was forced open; knocked down, to be exact. Hitsugaya was cut off in his own chain of thoughts as he picked up the pace and wheeled the older of the two into the bathroom of the kitchen, shutting and locking it while trying to remain as quiet as possible. The familiar old, raspy voice gave out the order to search the house, replied by elephant footsteps dispersing into different areas. A few came into closer earshot; Hitsugaya bit his lower lip. He hadn't much time left after all.

He had no other choice...it was either he wait for them to figure out they were in a locked bathroom, or he attempt to open the window - positioned at a height almost twice his own stature - and bring both him and Kurosaki out to safety, that is, if no one was waiting for them outside as well. Hitsugaya was all for the latter; he didn't want to know if Kurosaki was aware of anything that was occurring right at the moment.

Hitsugaya 'tch'ed under his breath as he stretched as far as possible for the window. It was times like this when he hated himself for depriving himself of food for most of his past life, contributing to his stunted growth; he held onto the wall, gave an attempt to prevent himself from slipping, and took a leap of faith as he heaved the window open, hanging onto the cliff-like area sloppily. His forehead was drenched with beads of pespiration; he panted, wiping them away from his eyes.

**Bang**

"Surrender, child!" Yamamoto ordered, thrashing the base of his staff against the marble tiles as he stomped into the toile, watching for any puddles of water beneath the soles of his feet. "I have made a promise to my people that you will be sentenced to death and I intend to uphold that promise! As for Kurosaki Ichigo, we will keep him locked up with his family to serve the rest of his life in jail; be glad that we agreed not to send them to their deaths."

"Glad?" Hitsugaya repeated darkly. "If I remember correctly, **sir**, you wrote a letter to the city government, requesting for a suitable timeslot for the hanging of the Kurosaki family, and you now claim that you want me dead but not them? You made the same promise three years ago, but the day before you sent your men to take me and Kurosaki, an accident happened which landed him in his current plight; you changed your side of the deal, that you would save his life as long as I agreed to go with you. Fine. I took it like any other person would. But you didn't keep your side of the promise; I found Kurosaki, stricken with a terminal illness, and none of you attempted to save his life. How can you expect me to be 'glad' after this series of events?"

The crowd began to whisper amongst each other; Hitsugaya took a quick glance at the people behind him. Abarai and Kuchiki weren't there. The both of them. "Silence!" Yamamoto bellowed, bringing order back to the town. "I have made no such promise to the likes of someone like you, Hitsugaya Toushirou! The ghoul that is residing within you has made you lost your senses; he was the one responsible for the many deaths of the people who were close to you. I merely offered to get rid of him so that you would be able to live like the rest of us, but you turned down the offer and escaped before I could offer any more help."

A visible twitch of the silvery white eyebrow. "Kusaka did no such thing, you bastard!"

"He did not?" the old leader asked challengingly. "Then explain the reason behind the deaths of your family, the burning down of the orphanage, as well as the death of your previous caretaker, Matsumoto Rangiku. If that ghost did not do anything, why did their deaths occur beyond the understanding of medical science? It is obvious that your friend - Kusaka, was it? - has done something that caused their deaths. You are his accomplice, but I kindly offered to get rid of hiim to save your life. You chose this path yourself, child."

As the crowd murmured again, Hitsugaya retorted back, "I have no reason to explain anything to you. Kusaka has done nothing wrong; he merely tried to keep people at a distance, away from the both of us."

"And he did so by killing those who dared come close. Looks like Kusaka is really protective of you, isn't he."

"Shut up," the white-haired adolescent hissed, landing on his feet gracefully while dragging Ichigo by the back of his collar, leaping towards the window once more. "Kusaka gave me a second chance to live, and Kurosaki gave me the third. I don't care how you people look at it; Kusaka is no murderer, Kurosaki is no threat, and I am no accomplice in anything." _After all, I regained my ability to speak because of Kurosaki's persistence...and I regained my ability to walk because of Kusaka's presence...I couldn't ask for any more out of the two of them..._

"...Kusaka, Kusaka Soujirou, right? The one who died in a tragic car accident ten years prior to our current time...he died, and was reborn as a part of you, bound to your every being. Are my sources not correct?"

"...It's not wrong to say that," Hitsugaya confirmed venomously. "But Kusaka didn't die."

"Yes, yes, he's still living as a soul inside you. And that is the very reason why we must get rid of you before this demon haunts us any further." Emerald eyes narrowed to thin slits as Yamamoto gave the order for his men to charge at him. Don't let them get away alive, he said. Don't let them escape.

A cool breeze brushed past as the wisp of snow white hair danced along with the wind; the fine, young white-haired man sprinted with all of his might. Large uproars gathered, following his every path. Flames of torches sparked as the clanging of metallic blades chorused; energy was being sapped from his veins, lost to the need of carrying a man into his twentieth year who just so happened to bear the name similar to that of a strawberry - it was like lifting a strawberry his own size, but of unthinkable thickness, weighing down his back and spraining a few muscles. The cries of the many villagers became louder and clearer than before.

_Don't...hold me back now..._

...Alright. I understand, Toushirou. But you know the consequences.

_Do I look like I care about that now, Kusaka?_

A sigh of defeat.

I can't guarantee you'll be able to walk again after this...but it's worth the gamble.

His fingers curled into clenched fists as he mustered up the strength in his legs, dashing across the road in lightspeed just as a van drove past, missing the load on his back by a mere millimetre. Heaving a sigh, Hitsugaya ran on, ignoring the black dots clouding his vision. A high-pitched screech pierced through the atmosphere; he turned, watching as smoke slithered into the sky like a snake from a pistol in an unidentified man's left hand. From where he was, he was unable to hear the click of the unused bullets falling to the pavement before reloading, and his sight wasn't working the way it should be to be able to spot the head of the gun aiming straight at him. Another click sounded, and he miraculously caught it.

**_Be careful!!_**

An excruciating pain struck his the lower of his dominant thigh, sending him hurling towards the brick wall of the building right next to him, knocking the subconscious strawberry awake and dazed. Before he could say anything, Hitsugaya grunted and staggered towards the exit of the town, a crimson trail leaking behind him. His mind slowly slipped into the dark chasm, his vision forming duplicates of all objects in sight before black dots started feeding on the duplicates.

Quick taps chased after him before halting to a stop. They were there? He bit his lip until it bled; the next thing he knew, he was facing the marble pavement with the familiar weight of Kurosaki on his back suddenly disappearing into nothingness. He flipped over to his side, panting as he felt an icy drop beat his face. The bald old man, wielding the smoking pistol like a sword, aimed it at the orange spikes lying before his feet, thumb flicking the back of the weapon as if it were a toy. Emerald orbs widened; he hadn't realised that his voice had overwhelmed the ringing of a click in his ears.

**"KUROSAKI!"**

And the last thing he heard, was the dreaded, wretched bang echoing throughout the town as was his own voice, before darkness finally consumed him.

* * *

_I don't suppose..._

_I'll ever see Kurosaki again._

...Toushirou...

_...Tomorrow's the day, isn't it?_

_I'll have one last chance to explain to his family, then..._

Pull yourself together, Toushirou.

If you think this way, I don't know how I'll be able to help you anymore.

_You've helped enough, Kusaka...and I'm grateful._

_But you do realise that after this, I won't be needing your protection anymore._

...I admit, the fire was my doing...but not anything else.

_I know. You just wanted me to be happy. After all, the other orphans...were quite the sadistic bastards._

Toushirou...focus on escaping. I'll be able to help you, then.

And all our suffering, our pain...we will lash it out on them.

_When I'm able to stand up and walk again, I will._

_However, time is not on our side this time round, Kusaka._

Anything is possible as long as you believe in yourself, Toushirou.

**After all, this is not the end.**

**It is merely...a new beginning.**

* * *

_--Owari--_


	4. Epilogue

_Author's Note: Pure dialogue. Ok, maybe not exactly totally full of dialogue…Sorta out of it today because the D-Dust novel is really really worth a 2__nd__ reading, but I'm trying to be careful about crying too much. I had a good cry last night, like, a really good cry…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Bleach. I hope you enjoy the epilogue. It is, for the first time, a funny bit._

* * *

"…_You know, I think Toushirou can't handle things on his own." When he received no reply, he continued from where he left off, "Sure, he's got us, but who's to say when that old bastard will come for him again? It ain't easy handling a whole family, especially after that…it's like he's become a mother, or an older brother to Karin and Yuzu. He thinks he can take care of them for me, but looking at him now, I sorta highly doubt he can…"_

"_You weren't awake at that time, but it was Toushirou who carried you all the way from your house to down the street while escaping from a mob of pissed off people," Kusaka simply explained. "I'm sure he can handle things fine on his own; even though we're always by his side, he's not going to rely on us all the time…so if you were thinking about grabbing this chance to gain his favour, I'd say you're in for a bad experience."_

_A playful grin dawned about his features. "Oh yeah? You sound like you've dated Toushirou yourself." The other looked at him in the eye, smiling rather arrogantly. "…Wait, you didn't…did you?" All he got was the same cocky smirk. "You have __**got **__to be kidding me! First, we thought you and your family died, next you appear with Toushirou, alive, and then we all thought you died – again – in a car accident, then I find out you're actually not really dead, and now I get the damned answer that you've dated Toushirou before!?"_

"_Exactly what you have said."_

_Ichigo inched towards Kusaka, and whispered in his ear, "Eh, so what did you do that got Toushirou swooning over you? I've spent almost four years with him and he doesn't seem like the kind who would like anyone in his lifetime."_

'Oi, I can hear you perfectly, you know,' Hitsugaya interrupted, tossing and turning about on his bed. 'Just so you know, Kurosaki, I **can **take care of your family for you, as well as get them to safety. Come morning, we depart, and then the next we'll arrive at a place far away from that town. Second of all, like what Kusaka said, don't think about other unimportant matters until it is confirmed that no one from there will be able to know our location, and lastly, I.Did.Not.Swoon.Over.Kusaka; I am not some kind of lovesick bird who will go around swooning over an idiot.'

"_I-idiot…?" Kusaka frowned. "It just so happens that this 'idiot' helped you escape in the nick of time, Toushirou."_

"_What? You get all the credit? I helped too, you know!"_

"_Just barely."_

"_What did you say…?"_

'Just shut up, you two. And get to sleep, if spirits actually need sleep in the first place…' Hitsugaya retorted, lying on his side before shutting his eyes close and allowing himself to drift off to slumber.

_Silence fell amongst the threesome._

"…_Hey, so share your secrets of success with me."_

A silvery eyebrow twitched, but it had gone unnoticed.

* * *

_A/N: Just in case it's hard to figure out what happened, I'll have to note that this is an inferential story. I think it's quite my first attempt at something half abstract, and half direct. The trilogy is nothing like this, but there is a need to look between the lines sometimes (re-writing chapters can be a pain in the ass because of that)._

_The initial plan for this story was completely different. We'd have a medical prodigy Hitsugaya in place of medical prodigy Ichigo because it suits him better. They first met when Ichigo has to undergo a lung surgery and Hitsugaya just so happened to be his surgeon. Not long after, they dated. Kusaka, who is Hitsugaya's mentor, still died in a car accident, but that accident was caused by Ichigo, so Hitsugaya and Ichigo needed 'some time alone'. In the end, Ichigo dies from brain cancer – the cancerous cells spread from his lungs to his brain. It was quite the sad one, because Ichigo died during the operation Hitsugaya performed on him for the second time, and he reproached himself about it._

_I have to admit, inspiration came from the amazing Wii game, Trauma Center: New Blood. Some of the operations proved to be a challenge, even on easy; I can't get past episode 7-2 without letting the third patient die o.o_

_Well, I hope that you've enjoyed Incurable. Now I shall get back to the 'main' stories…of which I still have writer's block. Crap._


End file.
